Coin Collection
By Jonathan C
Published 22 September 2017
As brown as some
Brown oak trees
They rattle
Like a bundle of keys.
Some are silver and shiny
And some are thick and tiny
Some are shining gold
And others are rusty and old.
My uncle gave them to me very dearly
When I looked at them
They looked quite weary
They’re round, and never ending
Like the amount
That he keeps sending.
Some are tiny like grains of sand
When they’re in the palm of my hand
I look at them everyday
For as long as I may.
My coins are very
precious to me
That’s why sometimes
I leave them be.